


Conspiracy

by AuthorInDistress



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Character Death, Conspiracy, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-19 00:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22002082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthorInDistress/pseuds/AuthorInDistress
Summary: One Morning, Oikawa is called and informed that Kageyama Tobio was murdered in his home by his partner and that he is required to come identify the body.Despite this however, his soulmark refuses to fade, along with his denial that Tobio is actually dead.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 59
Kudos: 234





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As promised, after _ages_ , my second murder prompt fic!

.

The body was so still.

That was the first thing he noticed when brought in to identify. He’d never seen Tobio so still before, even at his most frightened. The boy was a fidgeter, always had been for as long as he’d known him, with never a muscle locked in place. But now every one of them was permanently frozen.

The pathologist led him around the table, gently letting go of his hand to slide the sheet a little further down. So far, he’d only seen the top of Tobio’s head peeking out but now he could see his face, he prided himself on not reacting through the pain it gave him.

Because it did hurt to see. It hurt a lot.

“Take your time.” The pathologist told him, standing by for support, whilst Oikawa stared down at Tobio like nothing else existed.

There were marks over his arms, rope rashes he knew but his mind created other fantasies of fire and burns, which didn’t help. His lips were pale, full and swollen but pale, and there were teeth marks over the skin. Tobio’s own teeth, but he didn’t know how recent they were.

They could have been due to pre-game nervousness for all he knew and had nothing to do with this, but they were raw to look at and he felt faint the longer he did.

It distracted him from the rest of the body however as, despite the sheet covering most, the bruises there were apparent and he knew that there were more beneath the fabric. He both wanted and refused to look away, two hot tears falling down his cheeks in perfectly synchronisation until they slipped over his chin and splashed to the floor apart.

“I know this is difficult.” The pathologist began but he shook his head.

“It’s him,” He told her, sniffing once and finally glancing away, “It’s Tobio.” Nodding, the pathologist pulled the sheet back up and over Tobio’s face.

“Thank you. I’ll let the detective know for you.” She reached out to take his hand but he held it firm against his side. She paused, “Are you alright?”

“Yes. I just – can I stay?” He asked, staring down at the flecks in the concrete, “Just for a moment. I want – to say goodbye.” He sensed her hesitate, “I just want privacy. You can stay by the window and I promise I won’t touch the – I won’t touch him.”

“Of course.” She reached out again and this time he let her, “I can give you all the privacy you need for this, don’t worry. But are you sure you’ll be alright in here, alone?”

He nodded, “Yes.”

“Alright,” Stepping back, she pulled free a pair of disposable gloves and handed them to him, “You can touch, with these on. If you want to.”

“Thank you,” He peeled them on slowly, barely acknowledging the sound of her heels on the floor as she left the room, shutting the door behind her.

He knew that despite her assurance, someone would probably still be watching him but as long as they couldn’t hear what he had to say, he didn’t care.

Without the pathologist beside him now, he finally let his face crumple and had to quickly snag a chair to sit in before he fell. There was a metal one beside the table, undoubtedly put there for the very strong likelihood that ‘next-of-kins’ could faint when brought in here.

Which was what he bizarrely was himself. Tobio’s ‘next-of-kin’. As his soulmate, rejected or not, he’d been put down as a contact and had only discovered that fact upon his death.

He’d discovered a lot of things since Tobio’s death.

He’d discovered that Tobio’s parents had died at the start of his first year of high-school. He leant that Tobio had been living with an aunt before then living alone for university and then eventually moving in with a boyfriend back in Miyagi.

With his _murderer_.

The morning Oikawa’d been called and informed had been more of a blur than anything else. He had no idea how he’d gotten to the hospital today either or how he’d spoken to the police or the pathologist. All he could remember was the last time he’d seen Tobio face-to-face, almost three weeks ago now, and the last thing that he’d said to him.

The last thing he’d ever say to him.

He shut his eyes, hating himself.

 _‘Maybe the reason he’s so pissed at you is because you’ve clearly never gotten over your puppy-dog phase of following_ me _around!’_

Little had he known that the boyfriend, Ichisake Kanemoto, _had_ been pissed for that very reason. And that that anger would eventually manifest into an argument which would lead to Tobio’s murder.

And the last thing he’d ever said to him had been –

Oh _God._

“I’m sorry.” He choked, looking up at the body with his hands in his hair, his face burning, “I’m so sorry Tobio.”

He reached out with a gloved hand and wrapped it around Tobio’s wrist, wishing it was warm instead of cold, wishing he could feel a pulse against his fingers that wasn’t his.

But there was nothing.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered again, wanting to kiss him but the gloves only covered his hands and he didn’t want anything he did here to affect the case against Ichisake. Tobio’s body was evidence, and a kiss wasn’t worth causing something that might get that man freed.

No matter how badly he wanted to.

“I never meant it, you know.” He continued, aware of how stupid it was to talk to a dead body, but he couldn’t help it, “Any of it. Not even when we were kids.” He scoffed at himself, “God, I was beyond stupid. And I’m not just saying this because you’re dead. Okay? I’m not. I just – I need to finally say it. And I know I’m too late, I know. And I’m sorry, but – ”

He sucked in a sharp breath, shutting his eyes for a moment, “I should have said it a long time ago, I know. I should have told you _years_ ago that I love you.” He wiped at his face, pretending that Tobio had reacted to that with disbelief, “I know! I didn’t even realise it myself, not until I saw you graduate. I came to see you, by the way. I didn’t say ‘hi’, so don’t feel bad for not seeing me. You just seemed so happy and I knew seeing me would ruin that so – I stayed back. Watched in the crowd.”

He smiled, remembering that day, “I saw you with your aunt. She looked so proud. I remember thinking, where are your parents? Could they not make it?” He looked up at the ceiling, willing his tears back but they fell anyway, filling his voice with a sorrowful thickness, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Tobio’s body was silent in answer.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone they’d _died?_ Why didn’t you tell anyone about Ichisake? You had _friends_ , you idiot. They would have helped. I would have helped. Whether you believe it or not, I would have – ” He sighed, taking his hand off of Tobio’s wrist in case he started to squeeze in his anger and pain, “I would have done anything to keep you away from that bastard. I would have – ”

He stopped, realising he was shaking, “I’ve regretted everything since I rejected you. I regretted the way I treated you. The way I – I regret being such a _coward._ I convinced myself not to say anything to you, like I was waiting for some holy sign or something, and then before I knew it you’d moved on. You were in a relationship and I’d – I’d missed my shot.”

Gently, he brushed aside some of the strands of Tobio’s hair, just to see his face a little clearer only to bite his tongue when he saw the finger-shaped bruises over his cheek.

“I want him dead.” He whispered, brokenly. “I want him locked away forever, I want him to _hurt_. I want – I want you _back_. I want to say all the things I kept to myself. I want to take back the things I did say. I was just so fucking jealous and stupid and _petty_. And I’m so, so sorry.”

“I even argued with Iwa-chan over you, a few weeks ago.” He laughed without humour, “He told me some home-truths. I didn’t like them and we fought. He’s called me like eighty times today but I can’t talk to him. Not right now.”

Not like this.

He ducked his head, the tears having stopped now but his face was both wet and dry, cracking when he spoke, “How long was he hitting you?” He asked, more to himself now, “How long did it take for you to _realise_ he was hitting you and not – not anything else? Not anything he explained it away as?”

He’d watched a YouTube video a while back of one of Tobio’s games and had seen a tiny clip at the end that had featured Ichisake. He’d been animatedly talking and Tobio had been stood nearby, listening, but now with more context he wondered what he’d been saying.

Had he been cruel? Had he been jealous?

The last time he’d seen Tobio, he’d said something vague about how Ichisake didn’t like his teammates but Oikawa had been too busy trying to get out of the conversation to really think anything of it. But now, had that been a warning sign of the man’s possessiveness?

Had Tobio been asking him for help?

“Could I have done something?” He asked the room, his gaze falling back on Tobio’s body, “Could I have stopped this? If I’d just listened to you? If I’d just – god. God please, don’t be true. Don’t make this my fault.”

He sobbed now, unable to hold it in any longer, and he hunched down with his face in his hands. The doors opened almost immediately and the pathologist ushered him out into a waiting room, getting him a cup of tea in a Styrofoam cup and sitting beside him until he was calmer.

The news was on as they sat there and when the story changed, he saw a glimpse of the headline, ‘Volleyball Player Kageyama Tobio Murdered at 26 in his home, by boyfriend Ichi – ’, before the television was switched off.

“No.” He blinked, shocked he’d spoken aloud, “No please. I want to watch that. Please.”

Slowly, the pathologist lifted the remote and switched it back on.

The cameras showed Ichisake being arrested and the ambulance that had been outside Tobio’s house. More footage then showed protests and people demanding the death penalty.

Ichisake was some brand company CEO and a sponsor of sports, and his lawyers had to pass by the crowd to enter the police station, avoiding signs being shoved in their faces and fruit tossed at them. Police held the crowd back but neither lawyer entered the building clean.

The reporter told the viewers how Kageyama and Ichisake had met at University and that it was so sad to see a ‘rising star’ snuffed out so young. And then finally, a picture of Ichisake was shown, in full quality and nothing like the blurred images from his arrest that he’d seen so far.

Oikawa stared at it, drinking it in, wanting to know what a monster looked like but in the end, he looked completely normal.

Ichisake was tall, lean with a hint of stubble, sharp eyes and a long nose. He stared into the camera unforgivingly, his face blank with emotion, and despite knowing that it was because they used his ‘mug-shot’, Oikawa’s blood boiled at seeing the lack of empathy there.

He threw his cup before he even knew what he was doing, the tea splashing over the carpet, and the pathologist wordlessly switched the television off again.

Four days later, he was at a grief counsellor’s office and they spoke for more than two hours, the man’s words hitting a wall at first until eventually Oikawa began to listen.

He knew he was angry. He knew he was sad. He even knew he was guilty. He knew everything the counsellor told him he was but what he didn’t know was what to _do_ with it.

When asked, he had one answer, “I want to kill Ichisake Kanemoto.”

Obviously that wasn’t the right answer but he was told that that feeling was completely understandable and that he should try to surround himself with friends and family at a time like this. But how could he? When he knew almost all of them would be aware of his and Tobio’s history and how his rejection had affected a lot of it.

How could he face them after this? When he knew they’d agree that this was his fault? When some part of him still denied Tobio was even dead at all?

The answer came to him two weeks later with a banging on his front door. He opened it bleary-eyed, having actively napped most of the day away, to see Hajime stood outside with a suitcase and a furious look.

Oikawa blinked at him, not sure if he was imagining things, until he was punched in the face.

“You fucking _prick_ , I thought you’d done something stupid!” Hajime shouted, barging his way in and dragging Oikawa to the sofa to sit down, “No answers, no texts, nothing! I left hundreds of messages!”

“I know.” Oikawa told him, quietly.

“You know? Then why the hell didn’t you answer? Do you know how worried I’ve been?”

“No but I thought you might be.” Oikawa said, rubbing his cheek, “I didn’t think you’d fly all the way here though.”

Softening so quickly it was as though he hadn’t been angry in the first place, Hajime sat beside him and took one of his hands in both of his, “Of course I would, you dumbass. I’ve been trying to get time off work ever since this happened.”

“Well you didn’t have to.”

Hajime looked at him, “Hey,” He tugged on his hand until Oikawa looked at him as well, “No one knew, okay? No one. I called Sawamura-kun and he said they’re all confused and shocked. Apparently the chibi even met this Ichisake once and he said he didn’t notice anything weird.”

It was just like Hajime to know exactly what was affecting him, “I should have.”

“Why?” Hajime scoffed, “Because you were his soulmate? You barely saw each other, it wasn’t – ”

“I saw him a few weeks before it happened,” Oikawa cut him off, “He told me Ichisake didn’t like his teammates. That he was pissed off at him for having dinner with them after practice.”

“Yeah I know. You called me after you argued.” Of course he knew, it was why they’d fought, “And you told me what he said and I didn’t think anything of it either. So if that’s why you think this is somehow your fault then – ”

“No you don’t – you don’t _get_ it, Iwa-chan!” He pulled his hand free and stood, pacing the room, “I was his soulmate, okay? I was his _soulmate_. And I didn’t feel it.” He pressed a hand to his face, “I didn’t even feel it when he _died._ I _still_ don’t feel it! I didn’t even know until they called me to come identify the _fucking body_ because he put me as his next of kin!”

“You were his next of kin? What – what about his parents?”

“Ha.” Oikawa glanced away, “His parents died during our third year of high-school.” Hajime bristled at that, “And his aunt died last year. So that left _me_ as the last contact on his form, because even though I rejected him, he registered me as his soulmate. I’ve been on there for years apparently.”

Hajime stared, “His parents died?”

“Yeah.” Sitting back down again, Oikawa sighed, “Not at the same time but close enough. His dad was ill for years and when he died, his mum had a stroke about a month later. High-blood pressure or something. Or because of grief.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. She died in hospital and then he went to stay with his aunt.” 

“How do you know this?”

“Doctor told me. When I asked why I’d been called and not anyone else.”

“You would never have guessed,” Hajime sat back slightly, looking at the wall ahead, “Looking at him back then.”

Oikawa frowned, “Maybe I should have. Through my mark.”

“You know that’s not how it works.”

“Do you know what the last thing I said to him was?”

“No. And I don’t want to know. You’re not doing this to yourself.” Standing, Hajime pulled him to his feet, “You’re not sitting in here feeling guilty over something out of your control. Ichisake is the murderer and his actions are his. Feel sad, feel regret, but don’t feel guilt.”

“It’s not that easy.” He whispered.

“Of course it’s not,” Cupping his face with his hands, Hajime brought their heads closer until their foreheads touched, “None of this is going to be easy. But I’m here for you, okay? I’m not going anywhere and I’m going to help you through this. Alright?”

Oikawa squeezed his eyes shut, his conviction that he’d see blame in everyone’s faces so strong that to have it proven wrong now broke him. He slid his arms around Hajime’s shoulders and drew him in, crying hard into his neck and shaking like a leaf. Hajime held him through it, saying nothing and just letting him cry and cry until he was spent.

For the first time since Tobio’s death, he went out the next day to buy some groceries, cooking dinner for Hajime and him and trying to work through his grief. He ignored his mark as well, hating that it refused to fade and that it was intent on keeping the denial that Tobio was still alive. It was probably his guilt speaking but some nights he stared at the ceiling in his bed and felt so certain it was true.

He knew the only explanation for him not being dead would be some kind of conspiracy however and that real life was never really that dramatic. Tobio was dead and while he saw reminders of him wherever he went, he had to force the fact that he was gone time-and-time again.

So in the meantime, he concentrated on Ichisake’s trial instead, wanting to see if Justice would actually be served.

.


	2. Chapter 2

.

Not a witness nor an official family member, Oikawa had had no need to attend the trial and he hadn’t wished to. Instead, he’d stayed in the crowd watching as Ichisake had been brought out of a car in cuffs toward the courthouse and how protesters had jeered and tried to get to him.

Since Tobio’s murder, other stories of domestic violence with Ichisake had come out and it had quickly become apparent that the police had been warned about him several times. Now finally on trial for a murder he hadn’t been able to deny, crowds of people had gathered to see him walk to his ‘doom’.

Usually Capital Punishment took time but Oikawa had been sure that because of this case’s publicity, it would have been sped up. He knew from the trial’s result that it was definitely a consideration the Judge was making and that the Minister of Justice had been contacted.

As Tobio’s soulmate, he was kept slightly informed, and was glad that the public hadn’t discovered who he was through this. There were plenty of people in his life who knew and who could tell the Media that information, but none had and he felt grateful to know that he could trust each and every one of them.

Hajime had stayed with him for over a month before the trial and had then returned for two weeks once it was over. In between these different developments, Oikawa had begun to play volleyball again too, mostly on his own or with strangers at a gym, but working up a sweat felt good and forced him to think of something other than the upcoming death of someone he despised and the murder of someone he’d loved.

He hadn’t played since his knee had buckled, something that he’d caused himself stupidly by overworking once again, and since his doctor had recommended he not play competitively. At the time it had been devastating to hear and he still felt bitter whenever he remembered it, but he’d moved past it and played as a hobby now; only stopping whenever his knee began to pang.

Now however, the pain reminded him of his life from years ago and each slam of the ball over the net brought Tobio’s face to mind.

As the days went on, he knew that he should realistically look at going back to work or getting out of the house more often, but his mourning just never seemed to cease. Whenever he thought he could come to terms with Tobio’s death, he’d feel his mark burn over his lower stomach, mocking his efforts.

It still refused to fade as well and time-and-time again, he would dream of the conversation that he and Tobio had last had, a testament to the guilt that he clearly had over this. Because why else would he keep replaying it in his mind? It was either denial or guilt, though both hurt as much as the other.

Denial however, was something that he continued to focus on, with his dreams full of Tobio and mysteries and their argument.

_‘He gets moody sometimes. I went out with my team for dinner and he was pissed at me when I got back.’_

Why had Tobio told him that? What had he been trying to say? Why had Oikawa been so damn jealous that night, instead of listening?

A week after Hajime left, he decided to drink himself into a stupor, for the simple reason that it got him to sleep when nothing else worked. As he dreamt however, the conversation returned, only this time he didn’t have the energy to wake himself from it.

_‘Sounds like a conversation you should have with your boyfriend and not me.’_

_‘Well, like I said already, he’s angry with me. I just wanted to walk; I didn’t know you’d be here.’_

_‘Well sorry, it’s a free country. I can walk where I want, too.’_

_‘I didn’t mean it like that! Why are you always so – ?!’_

_‘So? So, what?”_

_‘Never mind. I’ll leave you alone. It’s obviously how you like it.’_

_‘Oh I’m sorry, am I_ meant _to be happy to hear you moan about your couple-life?’_

_‘ **You** asked me about him! I wasn’t – !’_

_‘Maybe the reason he’s so pissed at you is because you never got over your puppy-dog phase of following_ me _around!’_

And here, was when Tobio had stiffened and walked away, but this time his dream had other ideas. This time, Tobio took a step forward toward him and narrowed his eyes.

 _‘I’m not the only one following people around,’_ He whispered, _‘They’re always there, you know.’_

Oikawa blinked, taken aback, _‘What? They? Who’s they?’_

 _‘Them,’_ Tobio insisted, _‘Behind you.’_

His heart pounding at that, Oikawa turned slowly, but there was nothing except the empty road and a lonely streetlamp. When he turned back however, Tobio was gone.

 _‘Wh – Hey! Tobio!’_ He ran forward, his eyes darting all over the place, only to then trip and fall. He heard a thud and realised exactly what he’d fallen over but he refused to look.

_‘Oikawa-san …’_

_‘No.’_ He shut his eyes, _‘No, stop it! Stop it, just let me_ mourn _, please!’_

_‘Oikawa-san. Stop it.’_

_‘Stop what? It’s you! You’re – !’_ The ground suddenly opened up and he sucked in a breath, feeling himself fly through the air until he landed safe in his bed. His mouth was bone dry now, his eyes still shut, but when he slowly opened them he saw that he was really in his room.

He began to relax, breathing in puffs to try and calm down, but then he felt the bed sink as someone’s weight pressed onto it and when he looked to the side, he saw Tobio sitting beside his hip.

_‘No – ’_

_‘Calm down.’_ Tobio frowned at him, reaching out to put a hand over his cheek. Oikawa stared up at him, wide-eyed, and Tobio’s face softened, _‘Sorry, Oikawa-san.’_

_‘What for – ?’_

_‘Shush.’_ He snapped, without anger, almost teasing, _‘Stop talking in your sleep, it’s bad. And go back to work. Okay?’_

_‘I – ’_

_‘It’ll be okay. But you have to stop being stupid first.’_

With the gasp of a drowning man, Oikawa woke up, sitting like something had shocked him upright. His room was empty now, with no Tobio, but his words burned in the back of his head. And his hand …

He put a hand to his own cheek, remembering the feeling of Tobio’s touch there and frowning. It’d felt so real. His mark burned harshly at that and he winced, yanking his shorts down to prod at it but the burning didn’t stop.

What the hell? What the _hell?_ What was this? Was this normal?

He tugged at his hair, frustrated, and decided to find out. It was unlikely he was going to fall back asleep now anyway so, more motivated than he’d been in weeks, he climbed out from under the sheets and grabbed his laptop, opening a browser and clicking into the search tab.

At first, he wasn’t sure what to type, before then just searching ‘soulbonds’ in general and reading article after article on marks after death.

He skipped past everything until he could find what he was looking for and then drank it all in, learning that rejected marks blackened, which he already knew, but only faded when either party accepted the rejection entirely.

Neither he nor Tobio had had faded marks beforehand, which may have been another reason for Ichisake’s jealousy if he’d noticed that, but he could also have just simply been an average abusive asshole.

The article went on to say that after death, rejected and accepted marks faded with time, though sometimes they could manifest themselves into a permanent blemish or spot over the skin.

He lifted his shirt to look down at his mark again but saw nothing different about it, expect that it burned the longer he looked at it. So they apparently faded with time, but how much time?

How long would he have to wait to know the truth? Because now that he really thought about it, he knew why he was having such a hard time coming to terms with this. He didn’t really believe Tobio was dead.

Despite so much evidence to the contrary, some voice in him denied it constantly, and while he’d ignored it for so long, after that dream he listened now.

Which just gave him one question to answer. If Tobio was alive, where was he?

Incensed, he grabbed his phone and called the pathologists office with jabbing fingers, only to get the automated message of their opening hours. He ended the call and checked the time, getting his coat as he did. It was 4am, too early, but he knew where the morgue was and didn’t think about it much until he got into the car.

On his way there however, he changed his mind three times before eventually just putting his foot down over the pedal and speeding down the street. Once he was parked, he ran to the doors and tried the handles furiously. They were locked but there was a light on inside.

“Hey!” He slammed a hand against the glass, “Hey, please open the door! I need to check if – I need to – ” A woman peeked out from behind a wall, wearing a surgical mask and gloves, but when she saw him she frowned and peeled them off.

“Hey,” Oikawa waved, gesturing that she open the door for him, and she crossed the room toward an intercom, pressing it to speak.

“We’re closed,” She said, looking him up-and-down.

“I know,” He panted, “But I’m – my soulmate is in here. And I just need to check something, I – please. Can I please come in, for just a while?”

Her frown deepened, “I’m sorry, I can’t,” She said, “I’m only a technician, I’m not in charge, and I’m not allowed to let anyone in after closing. We open again after 8, come back then.”

Refusing to get angry at someone just doing their job, he grit his teeth but nodded, “Can I not – ?” He saw her glance at the phone nearby and swallowed, assuming she might get security, “Okay. I’ll come back later.”

He left, looking down at himself and not blaming her for worrying. He was in his pyjamas and slippers, with bed-hair and a harried expression, and he probably looked like a drunkard.

Getting back into his car, he sighed and leant forward to rest his head against the wheel. So what now? Without the morgue as an option, his mind was blank, but when he looked up and saw the technician still watching him he started the car to leave.

Driving aimlessly could kill time at least but he had around four hours yet and nowhere to go. Miyagi was large and there were plenty of places he knew of but nothing that would help his state of mind right now, nor that would probably be open at this time in the morning.

As he drove however, he continued taking random exits and following signs on autopilot until before he knew it, he was parked outside Tobio’s house.

It was no longer cordoned off nor surrounded by police cars, and as his next-of-kin, he’d gotten the keys from Tobio’s belongings already but he still felt like a criminal when he approached it. Like it was somewhere he shouldn’t be.

Despite knowing the address and having seen the house on the news several times, it looked so different face-to-face, and smaller than it had seemed. It was Tobio’s own house, under his name, but it was now forever tainted as being a crime scene with Ichisake associated with it.

He unlocked the door slowly and stepped inside, switching on the light and blinking into the hallway. There were unopened letters at his feet, most addressed to Ichisake and not Tobio, and as he stepped over them he caught sight of a portrait on the wall.

It was of Tobio’s old team, from Karasuno, but the glass on the frame was broken and the photo was curling at the edges. He took it out gently and lay a nearby book over it, hoping it would flatten out. He knew that Tobio’d be so upset if he learned it was ruined.

And there he went again, with his denial. He shook his head, leaving the room to head upstairs, not quite sure why he was here or what he was hoping to achieve.

The house was eerily quiet as he walked and barring the portrait downstairs, nothing in it spoke of the Tobio he knew. The walls were bland, the furniture standard, and everything was packed and gleaming, making it look more like a showroom than a house.

He stepped into the bedroom, taking in the folded sheets and the photo on the bedside table. It was of Tobio and Ichisake, both with hats on and in front of what looked like the Reichstag in Berlin. It seemed like an average, couple photograph, but now with what had happened it seemed horrible to look at.

He reached over and placed it facedown only to change his mind and pick it up again, looking over Tobio’s face. He had a half smile on, his more natural one, and his cheeks were flushed from the cold. The longer Oikawa looked the more his heart ached, until his eyes unfocused as he had to glance away.

As he did, he looked at Ichisake instead and noted that he looked just as relaxed as Tobio did. Then he saw what was right behind him. He squinted, bringing the photo up closer to his eye, to see what looked like a man in black taking a photo of them.

While it could be possible that he was photographing something else, the second man in black just to his left was definitely watching them. Frowning, Oikawa opened the frame and took the photograph before he even really knew what he was doing, taking it with him as he left the bedroom and went back downstairs.

He searched the library then, taking out what was probably a photo album and opening it to the latest page. There were two large photos inside, and though he had no idea of the location, they both featured Tobio and Ichisake again. He took them out, grabbing a random book to put them in for safekeeping, before flicking through the album for more.

Each photograph was quite recent and was obviously from a holiday of theirs, but once he’d exhausted them the photos began to merge into his volleyball games only. They were teammate shots, newspaper clippings and training gyms. There were even a few of him, notably the local newspaper that had reported his hospital visit for his knee.

But none of Ichisake except from the last few of the holiday shots. He took all of those out to take before changing his mind and just deciding to take the entire album instead, putting it under his arm and stretching his legs. He could easily have just sat on a sofa as he’d looked, instead of crouching on the floor, but it felt wrong to sit when he hadn’t technically been invited here.

Which he couldn’t be anyway, because Tobio was _dead_ , for God’s sake.

He made a face at himself, putting the album down for a moment to get his keys out when he spotted a coil of rope in the corner. He was walking toward it in a trace before he could even think and then bent to pick it up, rolling the frayed end in his hands before he realised that it had been sawn off.

Which meant that it had been used to tie something. Tobio had had rope burns on his arms, he remembered, and with that he dropped the rope like it was a live snake, backing up.

God. He needed to leave.

He grabbed the album and quickly left the house, locking the door after him and driving back home in a flurry, running inside once he was parked and locking the door. He was breathing heavily, gasping and panting, and it wasn’t until he saw himself in the microwaves’ reflection that he realised he was crying.

“Dammit.” He whispered to himself, “Dammit.” Putting the album down, he fell onto his sofa and put his face in his hands, _“Dammit.”_

.

It took him around a week to even look at the album again. In that time, he’d worked out like crazy at the nearest gym and had cooked himself enough meals to last a month, though most of them had ingredients that needed to be used immediately so he’d ended up donating them to the local soup kitchen instead.

Hajime had called him too, just to check up, and he was impressed at how easily he’d lied about being okay. In truth, he was having trouble sleeping, with images of Ichisake and men dressed in black chasing him through the house until he’d look down and realise that he was Tobio and not himself. The shock that that always gave him gave his assailants the time needed to catch up and attack, and he’d wake each time in cold sweat and tangled sheets.

Three days into that, he’d gotten in the habit of drinking constant coffee to stay awake, sleeping less and less each night.

He became paranoid as well, using his internet browser in private-mode and not opening the door unless he was absolutely certain he knew who it was. The only person who ever knocked was the mailman anyway but he still jumped every time and snapped at him to use the mailbox when it was only letters.

So by the time he opened the album, he was a mess and was buzzed on coffee and lack of sleep, and probably not in the right state of mind to do this but he never really did what was healthy for him. Not until it was too late anyway.

The holiday photos were at the back, piled together and out from the film that he’d taken them from, but unharmed. He scanned them into his laptop one-by-one, the repeated process therapeutic in its own way.

When they then began to come through, he created a folder specifically for them, simply calling it ‘Tobio’, before making himself another cup of coffee and waiting.

Once the last was scanned in, he put them away and opened them up on his computer, looking over the first with narrowed eyes.

Now enlarged, the men in the photo outside the Reichstag were more distinct, but they also didn’t look so out of place with the other tourists scattered about. A lot of them were wearing long, black coats for the weather and now that he really thought about it, he felt stupid for what he’d originally assumed.

Of course they were just tourists, what else had he been expecting?

He knew that when he was younger, he’d seen conspiracy theories everywhere, but he’d thought that he’d grown out of that by now. Obviously not.

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face only to forget that he was wearing his glasses and knocking them off his nose. Frustrated, he hit his keyboard and grabbed his glasses from the floor, absently looking at the photo that he’d brought up before taking a long sip of coffee. Only to then double-take.

Was that – ?

He zoomed in, past Ichisake and Tobio from where they were posing outside a chocolate shop, and over to the windows of the store itself. In the reflection, there was another man in black walking past them, though his head was turned slightly toward them as he did.

Clicking his mouse harshly, Oikawa turned to the next photo and darted his eyes over it. Tobio and Ichisake were sitting by a fountain and right in the corner, a man in black fed the ducks nearby. He clicked ‘next’, finding the man in black almost immediately in this one, in the reflection of Ichisake’s sunglasses.

Every photo featured one and Oikawa felt his mind whirl at what that might mean. Who were they? Why were they there? Tobio wasn’t famous or rich enough to warrant having bodyguards and if they were Ichisake’s, why were they trying to blend into the surroundings in each photo?

He wrapped his hand around the mouse, chewing on his bottom lip, before remembering something so suddenly he stood.

There had been letters on the floor of Tobio’s house, addressed to Ichisake, but they hadn’t been moved. They hadn’t been taken by forensics as evidence, despite many of them being dated from before the murder. They must have been there during the search, so why were they left?

And the bedroom, the sheets had been folded. Oikawa had seen photos of crime scenes once forensics were done and it was almost always a complete tip. Tobio’s house had looked like no one had been in it for months, though it was _clean_.

Very clean.

He rolled his tongue over his teeth, wondering if he was trying too hard at playing detective over a trial that was already over, but his mark’s burning made his mind up. He grabbed his jacket and left the house, making his way over to the morgue.

He hadn’t gone back that day before, having been too emotional to see anyone, and had then become a zombie since. But now, his mind was alert.

He parked outside the building and went to the door, pressing the intercom twice and waiting for someone to arrive. The same technician from a week ago came and she paused when she saw him.

“Hi,” He waved, “Can I – ?” She walked forward and opened the door, letting him past, “Thank you. Uh. My name is Oikawa Tooru, Kageyama Tobio is my soulmate. I want to – if it’s possible, I want to take a look at his body again. Please.”

“Oh. Uh – ”

“I’m his next-of-kin and I haven’t organised a funeral service yet, so – he should still be here, right?”

“It’s – I’m not sure? Please – please wait here. I’ll be back.” She gestured he sit and ducked around the corner, probably to get the actual pathologist. He didn’t sit however and instead paced, looking up and down the room and glaring at the nearest security camera.

Did they know? Though what they were _supposed_ to know, he wasn’t sure himself.

“Oikawa-san?” The pathologist that he’d seen all that time ago popped around, looking confused, “I was told you were – ”

“Is Kageyama Tobio’s body still here?” He asked, desperate, “Please.”

She looked startled but recovered quickly, “Yes. As no funeral preparations have been made, he is still here. You should be getting a bill for the cost of keeping him here soon, if you – ”

“I don’t care about that, just – can I see him?”

She asked him to wait outside for just a little longer as she ‘finished with what she was doing’, before returning and leading him in. Tobio’s body had been pulled out and uncovered to the chest for him to see, and it staggered him even now but he continued inside nonetheless.

Brushing past the pathologist, he pulled free a pair of gloves from the box nearby and put them on, feeling as though he’d run a marathon with how breathless he was.

“Oikawa-san, can I ask what this is about?” He ignored her and touched the sheet, “I’m afraid I cannot allow the body to be mo – hey!”

She darted forward when Oikawa yanked the sheet down, wanting to check Tobio’s mark to see if it had changed at all either. He knew it was over his thigh, had been told that once when Tobio had been angry, but he’d never seen it in person so he wasn’t sure what exactly he was looking for but what he did see was completely unexpected.

The body, Tobio’s body, ended at the stomach; the rest was simply wood used to prop the sheet up in the shape of his legs and feet. He stared, feeling sick, and put a hand to his mouth just as the pathologist re-covered the body.

“Oh God.”

“Niko-san, please escort Oikawa-san to my office,” She ordered, and the technician quickly took Oikawa by the arm and practically frogmarched him away. He went willingly, still shocked, and sat on the seat opposite the desk. The pathologist came in a moment later and dismissed Niko, sitting down and facing him.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“What happened to his legs?” He whispered and she lowered her eyes.

“There was an incident,” She said, “During the autopsy. The legs were broken but an orderly misread the report and assumed they were to be stored separately.”

“How can someone misread that _badly?”_

“It happens. Rarely but it does. And the person in question has been punished.” He scoffed, but she ignored it and continued, “And as the body was going to be cremated anyway, the legs were cremated first and the rest of the body was going to be dealt with once the funeral was underway. The ashes are stored in the cabinet, there.” She pointed out to the morgue, to where the bodies were kept, and he followed her finger to see a metal cabinet beside the macabre wall display.

“I see.”

“You were not meant to see him like that.”

“I wanted to see his mark.” He murmured, “His soulmark. It was on his thigh.”

“I have pictures.” She offered but he shook his head.

“No. I don’t – no. I don’t trust this, I don’t trust _you_.” With that, he stood, taking the gloves off and slamming them into the wastebin. “This is wrong. Whatever this is, whatever’s happening, it’s wrong.”

“Oikawa-san,” She put her hands together, looking at him so sympathetically he wanted to hit her, “Have you been seeing the grief counsellor, as discussed?”

He glared, turning and leaving the room, not bothering to shut the door after him. As he went however, he noticed that Niko had called security and he was watched as he walked out, a clear warning to not come back. His hands were tight on the steering wheel as he drove home, so tight his knuckles bleached white, and he very nearly crashed several times on the way there.

As soon as he arrived however, he saw a car that he didn’t recognise and froze, his blood freezing as a million thoughts ran through his mind. But then the door opened and Hajime stepped out with a case, thanking the driver and watching as they drove away. He then turned, saw Oikawa, and waved.

Oikawa stepped out of his car slowly, locking it and glancing about as though he expected men with guns to run out at him any minute now.

“Hey,” Hajime jogged over, “I was just about to call – ” He paused, frowning, “Are you okay?”

“What are you doing here?”

Hajime blinked at the tone, and the blunt question, “It’s the 15th. I said I’d be back then, remember? I’ve got a posting here for a while.”

“Doing what?”

“Scoping out a new building near the beach area, why? You want to talk to my manager?”

That snapped Oikawa out of it and he swallowed, flushing, “Iwa – I’m sorry. I don’t know what that was. I’ve just – it’s been weird.”

“What do you mean?”

“I – not here.” He bent to pick Hajime’s case up, bringing it in with him, “Come on. I forgot to get a bed ready for you, so just sit down while I do that.”

“Forget the bed for now.” Hajime took his case back and followed Oikawa into the kitchen, “You look like hell, Oikawa, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” He said automatically, before correcting himself, “Everything. Something? I don’t know.”

“That helps.”

“Look. I – there’s just something not right with this, okay?” Hajime raised an eyebrow and he sighed, “I just came from the Morgue.”

“Wh – the _Morgue?_ Why?”

“I went to look at Tobio’s body again, I had to check – ”

“Oikawa – ”

“I had to check the mark, okay? I wanted to see if it was just mine that won’t fade.”

“Fading takes _time_ ,” Hajime said, opening the cupboard and pulling out a bottle of saké, pouring some in for them both, “And it’s different on each person.”

“Yeah well, his legs were missing so I couldn’t even check.” Hajime spilt the saké with a curse, “Sorry.”

“His _legs_ were missing?”

Oikawa grabbed a towel and soaked the saké up before it could drip onto the floor, “The pathologist said there was some incident and someone misread something so they burned his legs in preparation for the cremation.”

“Oh.” Hajime looked at him, “I’m – and you saw that? Is that why – are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” He waved that off, “I was shocked but now I’m angry.”

“Why? If it was a mistake, then – ”

“It wasn’t a mistake; don’t you see what’s happening? They’re covering something up!” Hajime blinked, completely taken aback, “Look, here, I’ll show you.” He grabbed his hand and dragged him over toward the laptop, shutting the curtains as he went and ignoring the bafflement that he could feel radiating from Hajime with every step.

The pictures were still up when he opened the lid and he used the first to make his point, “Take a look at this.”

Hajime obliged, looking down at it warily, “What am I looking at?”

“This.” Oikawa stabbed a finger at the reflection in the glasses and, before Hajime could say anything, switched to the next photo, “And this. And _these_.” He continued on, showing each man in black, “Every one. Every picture. Who are they? Wha – ”

Hajime shut the lid, cutting him off, “Oikawa. Are you seriously doing this to yourself?”

“No – look. Look at the pictures.”

“Ichisake was rich, he had bodyguards.”

“Yeah, then why are they trying to blend in so much?”

“You think a man like Ichisake wouldn’t know if people were following him? They’re not exactly subtle if even _you_ noticed. So clearly they’re not hiding.”

“Yeah but, his _legs_ and then this? And the house! His house was spotless, and there were letters! Why weren’t the letters with evidence, they were just left on the floor!”

“I thought you said the house was spotless?”

“Yeah it was, but the letters were the only – ”

“And who’s house anyway? Don’t tell me you went to Kageyama’s house.”

“I have his key, I didn’t break in or anything.”

“Dammit Oikawa, why are you doing this?”

“Because he’s alive.” Oikawa glared, “I can feel it, okay? He’s alive.”

“You _saw_ his body!”

“It’s a fake! Okay, I don’t know! But I’ll tell you something else,” He reopened the laptop, “Judging from these, Ichisake isn’t even Tobio’s _type!”_ He clicked through the photos, “I mean, look at him. Look at _them_. Why would Tobio stay with someone like that if there wasn’t more going on?”

“Maybe he was afraid.” Hajime said, softer than before, “Ichisake was an abuser, remember.”

“That can’t just be it.”

“Oh come on!”

“No, listen to me Iwa-chan, I know it okay! Just – please. I feel like I’m losing my mind or that I’m _already_ crazy, but I know I’m right! So just please. Trust me.” He pushed the laptop toward him, “ _Help_ me.”

Giving him a long, long look Hajime didn’t move for a while before finally sighing, “Okay.” He surrendered, “Okay, if it’s what you need right now, I’ll ... I’ll help you.”

Letting out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, Oikawa smiled, “Thank you.”

“But the first thing you’re going to do is get a good night’s sleep. And if that means I need to drug you, I will.”

“What? Look, don’t humour me, if you don’t want to help – ”

“I just said I would. But you need sleep first.”

“Iwa-chan – ”

“Don’t think I won’t drug you. Because I will.”

“Fine! Fine, I’ll sleep. I will.” He opened the drawers from beneath his television and took out a USB, pushing it into the laptop and downloading the pictures onto it, just in case. Then he put it in his pocket and went to get ready for bed, keeping the USB safe.

“Happy?” He called from his bedroom, undressing.

“Extremely.” Hajime replied, just as sarcastically.

Afterward, they both set up the guest bed together and Oikawa actually managed to fall asleep to the sound of the tv playing in the background. Maybe it was because Hajime had agreed to help but he felt safer than he had in a while, calmer, and even if he did dream he didn’t remember it the next day.

Except for the vague sense that someone had whispered _‘idiot’_ in his ear at one point.

.

The next day, Hajime unfortunately had work first thing but said that he’d look into everything with Oikawa when he was back. Oikawa believed him but also decided to visit Tobio’s house again while he was gone.

The letters from before had been left behind but maybe there was an importance to them that he hadn’t realised upon his first visit, and if something in them could help then he needed them. But then, when he stepped inside the house, he found that they were gone.

“No.” He spun on the spot, as though they’d just appear, but of course they didn’t. “Shit!”

He ran up the stairs to look for them, then back down into the living space, but they were nowhere. Someone had come in and taken them when they’d realised he’d come inside.

He tugged at his hair, so angry at himself for not taking them with him, even if they’d related to Ichisake and he’d had no real suspicions at the time. His anger wasn’t exactly logical, but it _was_ easily distracted, because before he could leave he remembered that he’d placed a photo beneath a book to flatten it out and when he checked, it was still there.

The photo was completely flat now and unharmed but more importantly, there was a sticky-label attached to it that hadn’t been there before.

It read: _Stop looking._

He snatched it up and left the house, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise as he drove, but whoever had left the note was in for a rude awakening because he was not stopping. No way in hell, not when they’d essentially given him more motivation to keep going.

He kept the label to show Hajime and opened his laptop, going onto private-mode and about to search whatever came to mind when he received an email a moment later.

The sender was unknown, the subject was ‘Oikawa Tooru’, and it simply said: _‘Do not continue this search. The information you seek will be with you in two days.’_

He stared at it, not quite sure if he was dreaming or not – because this was far too movie-like to be real – only for matters to get worse and for his inbox to purge itself and delete all record of the message he’d just received.

He tapped at his keyboard with frustration, trying and failing to get it back and then searching how to re-find a lost email but his browsers were no help either, so eventually he had to give up and slam the lid shut.

Two days? Two days until _what?_

Who was it messaging him? And were they _warning_ him or threatening him? God, and Hajime was never going to believe him if he didn’t have proof of the email, he already thought he was losing it as it was and he didn’t blame him.

Still though, the label was real, and he had that. But then, Hajime could argue that he’d written it himself.

He groaned, slumping back and wishing that someone could just appear and give him all the answers, put him out of his misery.

Why had Tobio’s legs been cut off? Why were the letters gone? Who had written the note and email? Why were there men in black in every photo? Why had the house been so clean and clearly untouched by forensics?

Why did Ichisake have to _murder_ Tobio in the goddamn first place? Why – ?

He sat up. Ichisake. Ichisake was alive and was a person who could answer back when asked questions, and he was currently in a detention centre in Tokyo, not far from here. Why hadn’t he thought of that before?

He had a right to visit, didn’t he? As Tobio’s next-of-kin? He wasn’t sure, but he knew he had to request visitation rights, and to do that he had to call.

He scrambled to his feet, getting his laptop and phone and finding the information he needed before dialling in. He had to speak to three different people before eventually being given a form to download and then scan back, which he did within the hour. He waited patiently for a response but didn’t get one until well into the evening, just as Hajime arrived home.

He’d bought takeaway and went about preparing it on some plates for them to share when an email finally came through.

The first person on the phone had told him he couldn’t visit as he wasn’t Ichisake’s family or lawyer, but then when Oikawa had argued, the second person had told him that it depended on the detention centre rules themselves, and the third had said to just fill in a form and wait to see what was said.

The email essentially repeated all that information back to him before saying that they would make an exception and give him a slot in four days’ time, for a half hour. He quickly replied to accept, adrenalized that he’d succeeded, but didn’t tell Hajime just in case he’d try to talk him out of it.

In fact, he didn’t mention anything to do with Tobio or his theories at all, and though he felt guilty for giving Hajime a false sense of relief, he knew it was for the best.

Motivated now that he believed he might get some answers, he joined Hajime in getting ready for work the next morning, finally returning after over a month off for bereavement. He got the train there and ignored his nervousness at seeing his colleagues again but when he arrived, most of the office was empty. He’d forgotten that there was a training day today but felt glad to remember it now.

He didn’t think he’d have been able to cope with listening to people giving their condolences and so forth, though it did make the day go much slower than usual with no one to talk to as he worked. Being busy helped however, and focusing on his work instead of death and grief made a nice change.

Unfortunately the distraction didn’t last. On his way home from the office, he checked the time on his phone and saw that he had a missed call from an unknown number. They’d left a voice message which he listened to on the train ride back, but as he did he felt something cold grab his heart and squeeze.

_‘This is a message for Oikawa Tooru. We are calling to inform you that Ichisake Kanemoto was hung today at 7:08am on the grounds of the detention centre in Tokyo. We will be informing the public of this in a few days. If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to call us back.’_

He passed his station by two stops as he listened and had to double back, walking to his apartment like a zombie before sitting on his bed and replaying the message.

_‘Was hung today at 7:08am.’_

Hung. Today.

Today.

Why the _hell_ had he been given a date to visit if they were planning on hanging him _today?_ Furious, he threw his phone at the wall, ignoring the crack that it made and screaming into his hands.

Dammit, dammit, _dammit!_

DAMMIT.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say that I honestly don't know a lot about Japanese procedure for bodies and murder and so forth so this is all artistic creativity! Apologies for any inaccuracies!


	3. Chapter 3

.

The news of the hanging stung for the remainder of the day.

He sat curled on his sofa throughout it, the message’s notification blinking at the top of his screen like an indignant reminder of what it held. He’d replayed it more times than he could count, each time trying to listen out for something, _anything_ that he might have missed.

Maybe he’d misunderstood, maybe they were pre-warning him of the hanging but he could still have his meeting, maybe it was a _different_ Ichisake … ? But no. The message was clear and left no room for other interpretations.

Ichisake had been hung, today, and buried along with his death was any chance of finding out more on what had actually happened to Tobio. His final hope gone within a day.

Like a winding clock, he felt himself run through the five stages of grief within each hour, anger rising a little more than the others at times though denial fought for attention quite often too. But then, when the actual clock chimed ‘four’, he sat up to stare at it and felt acceptance finally start to sink in.

After all, if Ichisake was _dead_ , what could he do about it?

“God.” Like he’d just woken from an extended nap, he took in his surroundings and realised that he should probably warn Hajime about the message, and ask him to pass the warning on as well to anyone else who could continue on the chain. If the hanging was going to be reported in the next two days, then Tobio’s story would definitely be circulated once again too, and his friends needed time to prepare for that before it did.

His fingers were shaking too much to type however, so in the end he just recorded a message and sent that instead, uncaring of how cold he sounded because he knew Hajime would understand.

He only hoped he wouldn’t call him back straight away because he couldn’t handle any conversation right now. Or ever again, really.

At a loss of what else to do with himself after that, he switched on the radio and went to get dressed for bed, despite it having literally just turned ‘four’. The time didn’t mean much with how empty he was though, and his head ached whilst he felt as though he’d aged into his fifties just by sitting, wiping at his face as he walked until another sudden burst of anger hit.

_“Damm **IT!”**_

He lashed out, his fist hitting the nearest object, the clock, and knocking it from the wall. It skittered across the floor like a frisbee, landing against the sofa’s leg, and was far too tidy a fall to really satisfy him. So he reached out for an ornament that he’d had on the shelf beside it, staring down at this stupid model elephant that he must have once loved, and it was shattered in his hands before he could really think it through.

He cut open a thin line on his palm, barely a wound , but he looked down at it in surprise that he was bleeding. Was it really so easy? To make bruises and cuts on a person’s skin?

Would the rope around Ichisake’s neck have caused bruising when he’d dropped? Would it have hurt? He hoped so. 

Incensed, he turned and grabbed his phone, snatching it up along with his coat and keys, “Screw this.” He muttered to himself, jogging outside toward the nearest train station. He got a ticket to Tokyo, ignoring the wide berth that most people gave him when they saw the look on his face, and when he arrived he got a taxi to the detention centre just as the sky began to darken.

The centre was every bit the sort that he’d seen in movies but he didn’t stop to stare or really take it in, too angry and determined to think of anything other than why he was here. Once inside, he showed the receptionist the reference number that he’d gotten through the email he’d had before, and tapped his foot impatiently as she checked it.

“Um,” She glanced up at him, “I’m sorry, it says – ”

“It says he was hung today, yeah. I know. But I’m not looking to talk to him.” He showed her the reference again, “I want to talk to whoever’s in charge.”

“Um – ”

_“Now.”_

Two hours, three coffees and one extremely nervous receptionist later, a woman in all brown came down the elevator to meet him.

“Oikawa-san?” She asked, tilting her head to one side, and he stood.

“Yes.” She opened her mouth apologetically but he continued over her, “And before you tell me he’s dead and you’re sorry and I can’t talk to anyone about it, know that I do _not_ want to hear it.”

“Oikawa-san – ”

“I _want_ the officer in charge and if you kick me out, I will go _straight_ to the news with this! Okay? I swear I will!”

“Please, Oikawa-san. Calm down,” She held a hand out, “I understand you’re angry but Mako-san isn’t at fault here.” Oikawa glanced at the receptionist, feeling a little ashamed at how she recoiled when she saw him look, “Now if you come this way with me, I can answer any questions you have.” She gestured that he follow her into a tiny office to the side and the distraction of his shame vanished.

“No.” He frowned, folding his arms across his chest, “I told you. It’s the person in charge or nothing.”

“Oikawa-san – ”

“You know what? I actually have a pal in the press, why don’t I just call him?” He took his phone out, dialling Hanamaki’s number as a bluff and holding it to his ear. He held her gaze as it rang and as soon as it was answered, she stiffened.

 _“Helloo!_ Hanamaki’s office, what have you got for me?”

Oikawa pressed his lips together to hide his smile of relief. Thank God for Hanamaki’s sense of humour, “Yeah hi, Makki.”

“Yo, Oikawa! How’ve – ?”

“Sorry, not a casual call today. I’ve actually got a story for you.”

He felt Hanamaki’s confusion through the phone and subtly lowered the volume, “You – _huh?”_

“Oikawa-san, there’s no need for this.” The woman said and Oikawa made a show of pulling the phone from his ear and raising an eyebrow, to which she blustered a bit before eventually sighing, “If you’ll follow me. Misake-san is upstairs.”

Slowly, Oikawa put the phone back and said, “I’ll call you later Makki. But if I _don’t_ , I’m at Tokyo detention centre, okay?”

“You’re _what?_ What the hell are you doing there? Did – ?”

He hung up, hoping that Hanamaki would get the hint that he couldn’t talk right now but clearly his fake-threat had worked anyhow. The woman looked as nervous as the receptionist now but she followed through and took him up toward the elevator.

Once they stepped inside it however, her radio buzzed and she reacted, pressing the button for -3 instead of any of the upper floors.

“I thought you said he’s upstairs.” Oikawa frowned, squeezing his phone in his hands, but she didn’t answer and the elevator dropped down. Once they reached -3, she led him out and he hesitated but eventually decided to follow.

“This way,” She said, walking through the hallway straight-backed and Oikawa felt her previous nervousness seep out into him instead, making him shake a little as he realised that he may be in over his head but there wasn’t any sense in going back now.

After a while, they entered a set of double doors that she needed a fob to unlock and inside were several interview rooms. They were again set out exactly as those in the movies were, with glass windows and microphones, and one of them was currently occupied with a smartly dressed man.

The woman knocked on that particular door and opened it when she was nodded at, “This is Oikawa Tooru, sir.” She announced, stepping aside and leaving them behind to presumably head back to her office.

Oikawa watched her go before turning toward the man, his heart pounding though he did his best to hide it. “What the hell is this?” He demanded and the man stood, offering his hand to shake.

“My name is Misake Tooru,” He introduced himself, “Easy enough to remember, I hope, considering?”

“I don’t really care what your name is.” Oikawa snapped, stepping inside but being careful not to let the door shut behind him, “I don’t care who you are or what you do here, I just want to know why the hell I was given a date to meet that bastard Ichisake if you were planning on _killing_ him before I could!”

“I would have thought you’d be glad he was dead.”

“I am.” He grit his teeth, “But I wanted answers more.”

“Answers?” Misake raised an eyebrow, sitting back down and gesturing Oikawa do the same, “Please explain. I had the assumption that everything was already answered.”

“Did you.” Oikawa did sit but he pulled the chair right out from under the table, rocking it back with his legs, “Well here’s a few unanswered questions for you. Why weren’t Tobio’s letters collected as evidence? And why were they suddenly taken later when I went back for them? Why were his _legs_ cut off? Why weren’t the people hiding in _every_ single picture investigated?”

Misake blinked slowly at him, propping his hands up over the table and clasping them together, “You’ve been busy.” He remarked and before Oikawa could think of anything to say regarding that, he continued, “Well. As for the letters, these _were_ filed as evidence but then discarded once Ichisake confessed. I believe they were later removed again due to their confidentiality.”

“They were _unopened_.”

“You must be mistaken; they were certainly read.”

“I’m – ”

“As per Kageyama-san’s legs, I had heard of that and it was unfortunate, but was noted as a mistake made by the pathologist technician. Not by us.”

“That’s not the – ”

“And regarding the photographs … I’m afraid you’ll have to clue me in as to what you mean with those. What hidden people?”

His blood boiling, Oikawa dug his nails into his thigh, “Don’t do that.” He glared.

Misake sat back a little, still so calm that Oikawa wanted to punch him just to get a reaction, “I’m sorry?”

“Don’t.” He stood, clenching his hands into fists, “Don’t try that, making me sound crazy. I _know_ there’s more going on. I know it! Why else would you have hung Ichisake before I could meet him?”

“Ichisake Kanemoto was scheduled to hang today at 2pm. I apologise if you were given a meeting with him, that should not have been agreed upon without someone checking the timetable first, for this _very_ reason. All I can say now however is that I’m sorry for the confusion but I cannot help you further.” He checked his watch, “Now. I have a meeting with the coroner in ten minutes, was there anything else I can answer for you before I go?”

“You haven’t _answered_ ANYTHING!” Oikawa yelled, before suddenly realising what had been said, “Wait – coroner?”

Completely unfazed by his outburst, Misake nodded, “Yes. It’s standard procedure to have a body – ”

Oikawa bolted, leaving the room and racing for the elevator. As he went, he knew that he had no idea where the coroner would be but he didn’t care and was sure were only certain floors that they would be anyway.

Morgues and the like were always below ground, so he had -2 and -1 to choose from. Taking a wild guess, he chose -2, jabbing the button hard and holding his breath as the elevator moved up. Once it opened, he sprinted out, seeing signs for ‘holding cells’, ‘cafeteria’, ‘morgue’ and ‘yard.’

He paused briefly, the reality of where he was hitting him, but then he refocused on the sign for ‘morgue’ and ran down toward it. The door was conveniently labelled for him and when it opened for a worker to leave, he grabbed the handle and slipped inside.

“Hey!” He was called out to but he grabbed a chair nearby and jammed the door shut, spinning around to see a body covered by a sheet and laid out over a metal table. Above it, in a smaller adjacent room, was a trap door which he assumed led to where he must have been hung in the first place.

Panting, he ignored the thuds of the worker trying to get back in and stared down at the body. Belatedly, he realised that he had no idea if this even was Ichisake or if his body had already been disposed of, but he was here now and at least he had the threat of going to the press that might save him from any too awful consequences.

_“Open this door!”_

He stepped forward, reaching out for the sheet, only to startle back when a second door opened and Misake stepped through; still so calm, with his hands behind his back.

“Don’t stop me!” Oikawa snapped but he was just nodded at.

“Be my guest.” Misake gestured to the sheet, “But I think you’ll find that that is not Ichisake-san under there. His body has already been declared dead and removed.”

Swallowing, Oikawa pulled the sheet down anyway and let out a sharp breath when he saw someone who really _wasn’t_ Ichisake.

“Damn.” He whispered, shutting his eyes and tossing the sheet back on. It fluttered down, hiding everything but the bruising over the man’s neck. It made Oikawa want to hold his own in comfort, shaking hard from both anger and fear, the latter filling him a little more when he calmed and realised what the hell he’d just done.

What was he even _thinking?_ No way could Hanamaki or his empty threats get him out of this. Why couldn’t he learn to ignore his instincts sometimes and think things through first?

“I’m guessing – security is out there now.” He murmured, dully, and Misake stepped toward him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I have not called for security, Oikawa-kun,” He said, softly, “Believe me when I say, I completely understand why you would be so angry about this. And so upset. Your soulmate was murdered and this investigation has been full of errors. Enough to make you think that something else may be going on when it hasn’t, and whoever has been leaving you notes hasn’t helped. I am so sorry for your loss and if it was in my power, I _would_ help you. But as it is, I do need to ask you to leave now.”

Still numb, Oikawa just nodded, stepping back and letting Misake lead him toward the door. Despite his claim that he’d not called for security, there was a guard stood there anyway.

“Kindly see that Oikawa-kun is shown out and has everything he needs.” Misake ordered, giving Oikawa one last, sympathetic smile, before leaving himself. Oikawa followed the guard out, standing silently in the elevator, but it wasn’t until he was passing the receptionist’s desk that his mind caught up.

_And whoever has been leaving you notes hasn’t helped._

He blinked, the words tumbling through his head like breadcrumbs. He hadn’t mentioned the notes to Misake. He hadn’t mentioned them to _anyone_ , it hadn’t even been one of his questions.

The numbness in him fled when he realised what this meant, several different emotions running through him but he couldn’t afford to let any of them loose, keeping up the pretence that he was planning on leaving still only to suddenly fall forward and clutch his stomach.

“Sir?” The guard looked at him with concern and he struggled to think of something else to do, playing it all by ear.

“Oh God.” He wrapped his arms tight around his middle, forcing tears in his eyes, “He’s dead isn’t he. He’s really dead.” He sobbed loudly, turning and grabbing the guard, pressing his face into his shoulder, “God!”

“Oi,” The guard staggered back, clearly confused and unsure of how to react to this, “Let – okay. It’s – it’s alright, sir. If you – ”

“I’m gonna be sick,” Oikawa moaned, backing up and putting a hand to his mouth dramatically, “I’m sorry, I know I was angry before,” He said this to Mako, the receptionist, who was watching with wide-eyes, “It’s just – he was my _soulmate_. And Ichisake killed him!” He stumbled, feigning a slight faint only to ‘catch’ himself, “Shit – where’s the _bathroom_ in this place?!”

The guard stared but Mako stood now, darting around to take him by the arm, “This way, sir. It’s alright.” She led him toward what was likely the staff-only toilets, as visitors obviously didn’t loiter in this area for too long, and she opened the doors for him, “Here.”

“Thank you,” He quickly pushed past, giving her a slight smile before shutting the door and retching loudly. He did so three or four more times until he eventually heard her footsteps clattering away, letting him finally step back and take in the bathroom.

After the fuss he’d made before, he doubted they’d ever let him back into the building, so if he wanted to find anything out he couldn’t leave. Not yet. Misake had known that someone was leaving him notes despite Oikawa having kept that to himself, and that was enough to let him think that there was information here. Somewhere.

So now all he needed was a way to stay in the building without anyone knowing.

He frowned, glancing around at everything that he could see and mentally checking off a list in his head. Windows; none. Vents; one. Cubicles; two. Sinks; two. Mirrors; one.

Not much to use, really, but he couldn’t do this again so he had to keep looking. Standing on the closed toilet lid, he groped around over the ceiling, feeling a loose tile that sent a shower of dust down into his face when he moved it. He coughed, spluttering, and shook his head to keep any going into his eyes as he tried to reach up and see through the gap that he’d made.

The tile was on a rail however so when he let it go, it sprang back into place, a deterrent from anyone trying to do exactly what he was doing right now. This made climbing up a two-man-job, which was something more likely to be caught if anyone attempted it, but he also had something that not many of them had.

A knee-brace.

Bending, he balanced on one foot and pulled his trousers’ leg up to the thigh. He had to lean against the cubicle wall to tug his brace down as it usually took both hands to do so, and once he had it off he turned it over to it’s cupped side and lowered his foot.

Prying open the tile again, he used the brace’s cup to separate the rail and keep it pushed back, taking a breath from the exertion that this was causing only to stretch and start to haul himself up into it.

His days as an athlete came in handy as he tried, and though he wasn’t as fit as he used to be he still had enough upper-body strength to be able to get his torso in. Once that was over, he just had to turn and pull his legs through, taking his brace back out and letting the tile close behind him.

He didn’t bother putting the brace back on in here, there wasn’t enough room, and he didn’t have much time either so he just held onto it tight and began to crawl in the direction of the cells. Once he was sure that he was above the reception area however, he pulled free another tile just a little to see who else was down there. The guard was still hovering around Mako, waiting for him no doubt, which left him with a problem.

Feeling in his pockets, he searched for something, anything that he could use only to then see a loose nail in the tile nearest to him. He pulled it out, hoping it didn’t fall, and backed up a little until he was nearer the hallway. Then, opening a tile, he chucked the nail down as hard as he could.

It made a tiny ting when it hit the ground and he winced, knowing that no one would have heard it, but then he heard the guard stand.

“What was that?” He asked, and Mako glanced at him.

“Hm?”

“Something fell.” He wandered into Oikawa’s line of sight, right beneath him, and if the situation wasn’t so serious Oikawa would have tried to scare him. As it was, he held his breath and moved as quietly as he could away, back over toward the main doors.

Once there, he pulled free his driving licence, biting his lip as he aimed before reaching down and waving a hand in front of the sensor.

The automatic doors opened and he dropped his card right over the rug, hearing the guard react and jog over. He glanced about, bending and picking up the card, before leaving and obviously going to look for Oikawa outside.

A few minutes later, he came back in, shaking his head, “Crazy idiot.” He muttered, pocketing the card.

“He’s grieving,” Mako said, timidly, “And he might come back for that card, so leave it with me.”

“Yeah, whatever.” The guard tossed it over toward her, laughing when she missed, “Grieving or not, I don’t know why the boss didn’t just call the police on him. Crazy idiot.” He walked away then, obviously returning to his post, and if it wasn’t such a huge help Oikawa would have scoffed at how bad at his _job_ he was.

He hadn’t even checked the toilets!

Still, he was here now, and he just had to wait. For what, he had absolutely no idea, but he knew he’d know when he saw it. As the minutes passed however, his legs began to tingle and his hands went numb, a chill seeping through the ceiling too. He felt like crying after two hours of it, wondering what he was even _doing_ here, when Mako suddenly stood and locked her desk’s drawer. She shut her computer down a moment later, taking her coat and car keys and switching off the lights as she went.

The building was obviously not empty yet, though, as she didn’t set an alarm so once she was out the door and gone, he went back toward the toilets and climbed back down the way he’d come.

Creeping around the detention centre when he knew that he was committing a crime was both terrifying and exhilarating, and he tried not to let those both distract him too much. He took the stairs once he was past the reception area and went down to floor -3 again, sneaking around until he came to the double doors that had needed a security fob to get through.

He cursed softly, looking for a way to get around it, only to jump out of his skin when he heard a door slam nearby. He quickly darted back, hiding behind a propped open door behind him just as Misake stepped into view. He had another man with him now, the coroner maybe?, but neither of them noticed him when they passed.

He almost stepped back out once they were gone, his heart pounding, only to see two other men walking this way and barely managing to slip back behind the door in time. As he did however, he felt as though he recognised them, and he tried to get a better look as they walked past. They were both in black, straight-backed and stoic, and even without the sunglasses he knew who they were.

The men from the photos.

His hands clenched into fists and he abandoned the idea of getting into the interview rooms and decided to follow them instead. They were heading outside however and he knew he wouldn’t be able to gain access to the detention centre again if he left now, but they could also be who he needed to find anyway.

He paused, biting his lip and trying to make a decision, when he heard the sound of an alarm being dialled in. That made the decision for him, and he quickly found a fire exit and slipped out, jogging around until he could see Misake and the others leave the main entrance.

The coroner left them there, getting into a car parked outside and switching it on. Misake waved him off before turning to the two men and shaking their hands. Then he went off to find his own car as the men went toward theirs, pressing the key so it’s headlights flashed and revealed its location . Oikawa had gotten a taxi here so had no way of following if they drove, but he wasn’t giving up here.

With absolutely no thought to his safety he ran toward it and grabbed a rock from the ground, hurling it over at a silver jeep to set it’s alarm off. Once it started to blare, he watched the men react and walk toward it and took advantage of the noise to open the back door of their car and climb in. There wasn’t anywhere for him to hide inside it however, and he had nothing to cover himself with either, but there was a glove compartment and if these men were anything like he was imagining them to be, he knew that they probably had something in there.

So he opened it up and found a gun.

“Wow.” He blinked, despite the hope that there would be one here he was still shocked to see it, but the men were coming back now and he didn’t have the time to be scared. He grabbed it quickly, just as he heard their footsteps crunch over the gravel and sat back in the dark, waiting for them to sit down.

The doors opened and the lights turned on inside, leaving a limited area of shadow for him to stay in.

“ – threw a rock.” One was saying into their radio, “We’ll checked the perimeter and won’t report back until it’s clear.” There was a crackle before their answer.

_“Well stay alert. I’m handling Sawamura from my end already, we don’t need any others causing problems.”_

Oikawa stiffened. Sawamura? Sawamura _Daichi?_ He pressed his lips together, clutching the gun tighter. Could it be it wasn’t only him who thought there was something else going on?

He knew that Sawamura was a police officer now but for all he knew, it could be someone completely different. Still, the idea that it _could_ be his old rival captain gave him a little hope.

“Yes sir.” The radio was put down then and Oikawa took that opportunity before either of them could spot him first.

“Shut the door.” He ordered, aiming the gun at the back of the second guy’s head. The first one turned to see him, frowning at first, only to then smile.

“Right. You might want the safety _off_ first, kid.” He drawled, reaching out to snag the gun before Oikawa could even react, “But well done. I didn’t even know you were in here.”

“No – ” Oikawa made a grab for it back, missing, “ _Please_ okay, just – what is this? Why – ?” He swallowed when the gun was clicked and aimed at him instead, staring down the barrel with wide-eyes. “Don’t.” He whispered, and the second man turned in his seat, his cap falling off to reveal a shock of bright orange hair.

Oikawa’s heart stuttered at that but the man wasn’t Hinata, just someone who shared the same hair colour, and the distraction was enough for the gun to whip across his face and send him flying toward the doorframe. He hit his head against it, his world sucked into black.

.

He woke to the car moving, every judder sending a fresh spike of pain through his head, but he was seatbelted in and didn’t have the energy to try and move. He could barely look up either, his eyes stinging, but he could easily guess that he was still in the car and that he wasn’t at the detention centre anymore.

He didn’t know why he’d not been shot or tossed out, but was so angry at himself for being caught that he didn’t think much about it. The further they drove however, the more worried he became, and he tried to reach for his phone.

He couldn’t feel it in his pocket though but was sure that he’d left it there, starting to breathe a little faster when he heard it ring and realised where it really was. The ginger one, in the passenger seat, switched it on and Oikawa could see the caller ID as Hanamaki before it was declined.

“Throw it out.” The one driving ordered and Oikawa snapped upright, terrified.

“No!” He yelled, darting forward with more strength than he knew he currently had, and his sudden burst of energy surprised the two of them as well.

“Hey!” His elbow hit the driver’s cheek, sending the car veering off the road when he failed to dodge it, and when Oikawa managed to get a grip on his phone, the headlights shone over a sheep in the grass.

It looked up at them in shock, directly in their way, and there was a crunching bang as the car hit it. The man lost control of the wheel then, turning it both ways to try and steady it but they were in the field now and the mud was hard to get a grip on.

Oikawa slammed back at the force of the car’s braking, holding his head down and tucked in to brace for what he knew was coming, and soon enough to car ran out of room to straighten up and careened right into a fence. Ginger flew forward, his head hitting the window and cracking it open, whilst the first was already hunched and hit the steering wheel instead.

Oikawa fell forward too but he’d had time to protect himself a little more, hitting the seat in front of him but only coming out a little dazed if nothing else. The shock was what kept him sitting for longer but eventually, his panic returned and he pushed himself to move. Ginger was completely unresponsive but the first man was already beginning to stir, so he clambered out of the car quickly with his phone in hand.

The screen was cracked now but it still worked and lit the field with his torch’s-app, showing a few scattered sheep and the mangled body of the dead one. He turned away from it, looking down the road that they’d come from, and in the distance he could see lights.

Help.

He stumbled over the mud, slipping a few times and trying to keep a tight grip on his phone, so when he finally made it back onto tarmac he could try to call for the police. Predictably, however, there wasn’t any reception.

“Shit.” He was really in it now, and it was starting to get cold too, so far out in the countryside without reception and no one knowing where he was. He hugged himself, turning toward the lights and forcing himself to just head toward them and not think about the stories that he’d read of people dying from exposure.

He didn’t even know if the car crash had injured _him_ , despite his bracing for it, but he didn’t have the time to stop and check for it either. The only thing he tried to keep in mind, to feed his motivation, was that there wasn’t any doubt anymore.

Something was clearly going on surrounding Tobio’s ‘death’ and he wasn’t stopping until he could find out what.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I added a chapter! I accidentally wrote too much :(

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to post this on Christmas but got busy and missed my shot :(
> 
> My streak of having angst for Christmas has been broken - I am ashamed.


End file.
